Fifteen Pizzas’ Worth Of Entitlement

, , , , | Right | October 15, 2020

It is my second week of work at this pizza place. It is about 9:10 at night and I’m just starting my cleanup when a car pulls up to the pickup window. Keep in mind that we close at 9:00; that means the ovens are off and we can’t take any more orders.

As far as I know, we don’t have any orders left to be picked up, so I walk up to the window, already slightly flustered.

Customer: “Hi, I’m here to place an order. It’s for [Customer]. I want…”

She starts to rattle off an order for a LOT of pizzas before I interrupt her.

Me: “Um, I’m sorry, we’re closed. We can’t take any more orders. T- the ovens off; I can’t do anything for you.”

She looks shocked like I just slapped her.

Customer: “No, that’s not right. I called and ordered like thirty-five minutes ago.”

Now I’m embarrassed, assuming I misheard her and she is here to pick up an order, which I am almost sure we don’t have.

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were trying to order. Can I have a name and I’ll go see if it’s ready?”

She gives me the order’s name and I go in the back to see if her order is ready. Of course, there is nothing. The cook says there hasn’t been an order in the last forty-five minutes or so. Now thoroughly confused and even more flustered, I walk back to the customer who I notice is texting on her phone.

Me: “Hi. So, unfortunately, we don’t have your order; are you sure you called here? I know there’s another [Pizza Place] down in [City]; maybe you accidentally called there, instead?”

She looks exaggeratingly offended with her mouth hanging open, looking like she’s about to cry.

Customer: “You’re telling me that I called the wrong place, that I have the wrong number in my phone! I know [Boss] and I can call her. This is ridiculous! I think I know which [Pizza Place] I called!”

I’m an eighteen-year-old who has never had a job before, and I am quickly intimidated by this customer who looks to be on the verge of angry tears. I quickly backtrack and start apologizing, hoping she won’t bother my boss, who is at home taking a day off.

She starts saying how she wants so and so pizzas and I stop her, recognizing the order.

Me: “Wait, did you order a…”

I rattle off the pizzas I know were in the order.

Customer: “Yes! That’s exactly what I ordered! God, why didn’t you say you had it?!”

We don’t have it, at least not anymore.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that order was called in for a delivery to [Location]; they left with the pizzas around twenty minutes ago.”

Customer: “I know that!” *Scoffs* I’m here to pay for it!”

I’m getting less flustered and more annoyed with her. I go pull her order up on the computer and give her the total, but that’s not good enough for her. She ignores me and starts talking on the phone with someone.

Customer: *To phone* “I know, I’m right here and they won’t… So, you got them already? Yeah, I know, I’m trying to get—”

Right at that moment, the delivery driver walks through the door and is laughing with the cook. I overhear him saying that the last delivery he did — as in the order I’ve been dealing with for the past twenty minutes — gave him a forty-dollar tip.

I turn around and tell the customer that the delivery was already paid for and I point out my coworker. 

Customer: “No, I’m here to get our change back. My friend said that the driver didn’t give him change back.”

I was beyond exasperated but still worried about getting in trouble, so I told the problem to my coworkers. They ended up giving her the forty bucks back and she finally left. My coworkers and I just looked at each other in disbelief. 

We ended up with no tip for an eighty-dollar-plus order, thirty minutes behind on cleanup, and still wondering what was going through that woman’s mind.

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